


Hotel-Motel

by seryle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:43:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seryle/pseuds/seryle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short megstiel fluff that was floating in my mind before all the crazy happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotel-Motel

The hotel key got tied up in his pocket as Dean tried to to retire from a rather weary night. Blood from his jeans made the key so slick it rubbed off on the outside of the lock, and he had to wipe the knob clean after opening the door. Trudging in after him, Sam dumped his duffle bag on the table, and Cas surveyed the room before stiffening. 

“Dean,” Cas warned, unmoving. His eyes narrowed on the bathroom door at the other end of the suite, “Someone’s here.” 

As if on cue, the door opened, a long-legged, long-haired blonde on the other side, wrapped in naught but a towel. 

“Hello boys. I take it Crowley didn’t manage to skin himself a new set of throw-rugs,” she purred, running her fingers through the long, curly, bright blonde locks. 

“Meg,” Sam spat, “I see you got a new meatsuit.” 

The demon took a moment to admire her new nails. “A good looking one, at that,” she drawled, “fresh from the coma ward.” 

“You left us there to die, you bitch!” Dean accused, reaching into his jacket for what Meg assumed was his favorite knife. 

“I bought you time by letting that body be used as a chew toy.” 

Cas strode purposefully across the room. The demon didn’t even bother to run; it was pointless. Anywhere she went, he could follow, and too much movement would attract the attention of Hell’s ruler. She did, however, keep up the bravado.

“You,” he sneered, pinning her against the wall one-handed, hand pressed against her clavicle. He hovered inches from her body. As frightening as the angel was, she feared the king’s clutches far worse, death a preferred alternative to capture. 

“Cas, you naughty thing,” she cooed in surprise, “there’s Winchesters present.” The angel stared into her, and the demon braced, waiting for his hand to cover her face as he smote her. 

Instead, something far stranger happened. 

Castiel pressed his weight against her, running a hand up her leg and kissing her neck; in a swift movement he scooped her into his arms and turned round, walking just as determinedly out the door, all the while his mouth preoccupied with hers. Both Winchesters tried to protest; Dean opened his mouth to say – well anything, really – but nothing came out, and instead he found himself nodding in approval of the situation. Sam attempted talk, but finding nothing useful to add, just let the situation unfold. Cas carried his prize out the door, never looking where he was going, turned right, and kicked in the door to the next hotel room over. Meg never once tried to protest. 

Angry sex with an angel? Defiling a seraph turned her on in a whole new way.


End file.
